


Quarantine collection

by shipintheisland



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: F1Quarantine Challenge, Fic Collection, Gen, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:15:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23359888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipintheisland/pseuds/shipintheisland
Summary: 40 days Formula 1 Challenge to cope with the quarantineMultiple short OS on our favourite boys
Relationships: Daniel Ricciardo/Max Verstappen, Esteban Ocon/Lance Stroll, Nicholas Latifi & George Russell, Pierre Gasly & Daniil Kvyat, Valtteri Bottas/Lewis Hamilton
Comments: 1
Kudos: 69





	1. Driver - Nicholas & George

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone !  
> track-walk on Tumblr proposed a 40 days Challenge for the quarantine, starting for today. One day, one theme, everyone can participate with gifs, fanarts or anything else, and because I can do nothing else, I wrote mini-fics. Hope you will like them!  
> Enjoy <3

If someone had told him one day that his first race as a Formula 1 driver would have been spent back at home in his couch, Nicholas would have never believed it. But here he was, watching a replay of his favourite TV show, legs swinging on the armchair. Of course he understood, the fact that they had all flown to Australia in the first place was still a mystery to him, but…

He had been so proud to be integrated into Williams, but after only a few hours, the dream shattered when McLaren left the paddock in a hurry. Two days later, back in The Six with his family, ready for a quarantine on their own, he mourned his first race, not knowing when or even if he would get in a car for his rookie season.

He had assured his friends that yes, he was taking it just fine, his mother that no, he was not feeling down because he was sick, his team principal Claire that yes, he would give her news regularly and okay, he was keeping his phone close for any official update on the season. Another heavy sigh, he wasn’t even focused on the TV. Nicholas got up and wandered around the house aimlessly, lightly kicking in the air in his boredom, until a familiar buzz extirped him from his empty mind.

_George_

_u still up?_

_Nicholas_

_Yeah, isn’t it like 3am in England?_

_George_

_can’t sleep, wanna play iracing?_

Nicholas hesitated, standing in the middle of his living room. He had his computer, his headset and everything, but he didn’t feel like playing and-

_George_

_not perfect for a 1st race but still smth :)_

Nicholas smiled a little. He and George haven’t known each other for long, but he already felt like the younger Brit would be a great teammate, if not a good friend with time. According to Alex, who pulled him apart back in Australia, as long as he kept giving George hell for his shirtless pictures, he would also get allies in Red Bull and McLaren, which was nice to know when he was the only rookie this year.

_Nicholas_

_I’ll destroy you_

_George_

_stop dreaming boy im the top qualifier at williams_

Nicholas chuckled, heading toward his bedroom to get his headset. His first days as a Formula 1 driver were really different from what he had expected, but at least he was not the only one mourning the 2020 season.


	2. Race - Esteban

Loud cheers erupted from the stands as everyone in the Mercedes garage groaned in annoyance. From his spot next to the large TV inside, Esteban could see the whole team throwing their hands in the air, or covering their faces, helmets heavy on their heads, complaining for that minor strategy error. A simple, really small decision, that once it had been taken, everyone in the Champion team knew fate was sealed and the inevitable happened as Max Verstappen overtook Lewis Hamilton _again_ after getting out of the pitlane.

Not that it would change anything for them at that point, Lewis was the World Champion and Mercedes had taken the Constructor title weeks ago, but still. Toto punching the table in his growing frustration made Esteban smirk discreetly, he would miss the team principal’s show of displeasure, that always managed to make him smile.

Back on the screen, Esteban looked for the black and yellow cars, frowning when he spotted the name of Hulkenberg immobile in his 15th place. He silently prayed for the problem not coming from the car itself, he didn’t want to end up there next year. Of course, the cameras cut the scene to immediately go back to the top teams, this time focusing on the second Red Bull car. Footsteps distracted him from the screen and when he turned around, he found himself facing a tired-looking Finn. He had changed back in more casual clothes and kept his arms crossed on his chest. Esteban gulped, feeling bad for how the Brazilian GP stopped for him.

“Sorry for you race, Valtteri.” He still said quietly, not wanting to draw attention to them. The usually silent driver offered him a small smile, enough for Esteban to know that he was okay though. That was all they had the time to say before, on the screen, Lewis speared right in the Red Bull’s side, sending the poor Albon spinning out of the track, third place not forgotten. The sound of a chair falling on the other side of the garage draw both men’s attention where they saw Toto walk away from his previous seat, furiously kicking the air while pestering what Esteban was sure were German profanities. The rest of the mechanics hided their faces in their hands, shaking their head in disapproval.

“Oops.” Valtteri simply mumbled, the expression of his face between full annoyance or an irrepressible urge to laugh it off, which he didn’t, of course.

As the last three laps went on, Toto took back his chair, fingers taping the table agitatedly, and Esteban couldn’t stop himself from thinking he looked like a volcano ready to explode. And on the last straight line to the finish line, as Gasly managed _somehow_ to stay in front, the celebratory screams from the Toro Rosso garage resonated from up here and Toto finally lost it behind them, sending his pen flying on the table as he disappeared in the back of the room.

Valtteri sighed heavily.

“They are days like that, you just can’t do anything else to fuck up.”

Esteban pursed his lips, not knowing what to answer without risking hurting someone’s feelings or making things worse. He was not good with words, so he chose to stay silent, and Valtteri patted his shoulder before exiting the same way his team principal did.

As cheers and screams became louder in the two Red Bull garages, Esteban spotted a few mechanics in red in the pitlane, faces down and frustration all over their features, and he just hoped that he wouldn’t be responsible for making his future team that desperate next year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish you a nice Sunday <3


	3. Team - Ferrari

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drunk night for Charles

The hiccup escaping him compressed his chest so violently Charles flinched at the almost pain, making him lift his head from where he was – not so – comfortably settled. Arms crossed on a dirty table, half a glass of a not really good beer looking back at him – hey, he managed to find the only place in the country to sell him alcohol without sending him to prison straight after, he was not going to be difficult uh. As he made a face to his reflect in the glass, his clouded brain got a hold of a simple fact: he was completely wasted.

“ _Journée de merde…_ ” He mumbled under his breath, putting his head back on his arms, but not before another long swig of the bitter liquid.

The world was slowly spinning, but at least he wasn’t thinking of his day, or his weekend, heck he was not thinking of his year! He groaned, now he was thinking about it, he didn’t like that. He took another sip, surely it would end up suppressing every one of his thoughts at a moment, right?

Charles barely registered the sound of the bar’s door opening.

“There you are! You idiot, you scared us!”

He lifted his head slowly, the last drops of beer making their effects as he could barely understand what it was that was told to him by… by…

He turned a little on his left, suddenly face-to-face with a red shirt. _A little higher the head._

“Ooooh Andrea, hey!” Oh god, his voice was slurred as fuck. Andrea noticed it immediately, his face going from worry to poker-face instantly.

“Are you drunk?” It sounded more like a statement than a question, but Charles tried – and failed – to defend himself nonetheless.

“Absolutely not, I am in a perfect condition right now.”

“You can’t even keep your eyes straight, Charles.”

The young Monegasque shrugged, straightening his back. What if he was drunk, uh? What would they do about it, de-drunk him?

Someone else walked next to them that Charles immediately recognized as his PR.

“Come one, Charlie” Mia started, “let’s go back to the hotel, you’ll rest a little and then-“

“I’m not going anywhere, leave me alone!”

“Charles…”

“I was THAT close, you know?” Charles tried to explain, holding his hand up and his fingers as close as possible without touching. Which proved impossible as he was shaking a little. Whatever. “THAT close! Close to get third in the championship you know?” The two members of his personal team exchanged a pitiful look, but Charles didn’t care. “And Max fucking Verstappen destroyed that, Pffff. I hate him, like, not like I will stab him in his sleep hate, more like I wish he hit his toes on a table and struggles to drive hate. But yeah, I wanted the third place so much, and now I have…”

He waved his arms around, trying and failing again to present his beer and the dirty table, giving up on any form of soberness.

“So yeah, I’m wasted, but that’s all I’ll get tonight so I’ll take it.”

He let his head fall on the table, barely watching his two new companions as he mumbled complains for a few more seconds, until Andrea sighed with a small smile.

“Told you.” He stated to the young woman who threw her hands in the air before sitting on the chair in front of Charles, stealing a long gulp in it.

“I’m not fighting him, I don’t care, I’ll join.”

As Andrea nodded and went to the bar to order a few drinks for them, Charles lifted his head again with incomprehension.

“You’re not insisting?”

“Would you have followed us outside?”

Charles was sure that, in his state, a simple louder sentence would have made him run outside like a scared puppy, but it wouldn’t tell her that now, so he shook his head – immediately regretting his choice of answer as the world spun more violently.

“Thank you.” He still whispered, and Mia gave him a knowing smile.

“You have really high expectations for yourself Charles, we know it’s hard for you not to be able to live to them right now. But you’ll get to it soon, I’m sure of that. And in the meantime, if what you need is an off-evening full of alcohol, trust me we’re not leaving you alone in this.”

She smirked as Andrea came back with three beers and a huge glass of water that he put in Charles’ hand with a look that said ‘drink it or you’re dead’, so Charles obliged. The fresh water sliding in his throat pushed away another wave of vertigos.

“Thank you, guys, really.” He gave them the kindest smile he could provide, and they both returned it warmly.

“We’re a team, Charlie, whatever you’re going through, we are with you.

Charles barely remembered what happened after that. He somehow convinced Andrea and Mia that he was sober enough for another round of beers, which was one of the biggest lies of his life, and the rest of the evening was almost blank in his memory. He only remembered a few seconds when they exited the bar, someone hushing them silent to avoid drawing any unwanted attention as they were laughing their asses off. Also later, that same person holding him close as Charles stumbled on his feet in his bedroom before he crashed in his bed. As Charles had been three breaths away from falling asleep, he had felt a hand brushing his hair gently, another hand tugging the blanket on top of him, and finally a whisper close to a ‘You’ll feel better tomorrow, Kleiner’ before his mind drifted to a peaceful sleep.


	4. Helmet - Daniel/Max

“What the fuck is that?” Max asked incredulously, sitting on the edge of the hotel bed next to Daniel, eyes on what he other was presenting him with a huge grin.

“My new helmet for the year! Amazing, uh?”

The Aussie sounded so cheerful and happy, Max almost felt bad for disagreeing. Almost.

“It’s ugly.” He simply stated, eyebrows raising to prove his point, and Dan shoved his shoulder lightly.

“It’s not _ugly_ , you jackass, it’s cool.” He ran a hand on the helmet, caressing it fondly like a small pet, making Max chuckle in disbelief.

The competition he and Lando had engaged into a few months ago to make the most original helmet had clearly got out of hand, if you asked Max. The bright yellow weird things the young Brit could create were already flashy enough to make the sun hide in shame, and Max cover his eyes in disgust, but this… This was too much.

“You guys are crazy.”

“Maybe, but my helmet is the most original, you can’t deny that.”

At what point could you consider that the line between original and grotesque was crossed?

“What even are those things on it? Look like you’ve written the letter M all over it.”

“It’s a three, dumbass.”

“Dumbass yourself, none of them are turned on the right side, they are all backwards.” He explained as Daniel turned the helmet in his hands, probably looking for a proof that the “threes” as he said so were not, indeed, backwards. He didn’t find any.

“Those are threes, I swear!” He yelled in exasperation, turning the helmet again and again.

“Or M’s.” Max stated, before a thought crossed his mind, and he smirked evilly. “Do you miss me that much?”

Daniel stopped manipulating his helmet, giving a puzzled look to the Dutchman before grinning mischievously.

“M like Max, you mean? Yeah, it could work too.”

Max shook his head, amused by how Daniel was now brushing some symbols with the tip of his fingers with a loving look.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah, but I’m your idiot.” Daniel gave him a side-looking, putting the helmet aside before cupping his boyfriend’ cheek with his left hand and kissing him slowly.

“It’s still ugly though.”

Max laughed openly as Dan got up in fake frustration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To this day, I still don't understand Dan's helmet  
> Stay safe guys <3


	5. Teammates - Valtteri/Lewis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who is he to say to to Lewis Hamilton?

Having Lewis Hamilton as a teammate was quite something to experience, if you asked Valtteri.

Lewis was strong-headed. That was what six world championships could do to anyone, Valtteri thought. Whatever the Brit started, he accomplished it with a destabilizing easiness, either it be making changes for his car, keeping up a ‘positive message’ campaign on social medias, or even convincing his newly met teammate to accompany him in a vegan restaurant in Monaco (Valtteri had then protested, but you couldn’t just say no to Lewis Hamilton, thus leading to their escapade to that particular restaurant a monthly routine). And, of course, that was what had made him a World Champion. Six times. You must be quite obstinate to get there and make it look as easy as Lewis flying to the first place of the grid in Turn 1. One of the things Valtteri admired the most in his teammate.

But Lewis could also be pretty insufferable. “What happened with the tyres?” “Is _this_ what we are eating for lunch?” “Do we really need to go to the conference?” “I can’t believe I only got the second place!” Yeah, yeah, and I got sixth because everyone was working to get you there, Valtteri had to stop himself from saying aloud. If he dared to, he would even call him entitled sometimes – but never in front of him, he liked staying alive for now. Oh, the number of times Valtteri had wished to grab the Brit Champion by the shoulders and shake him until he stopped talking.

Because he was talkative too. Very talkative. And for someone as Valtteri, who stayed silent and calm most of the time, having to walk around the paddock next to an excited chatterbox could be quite exhausting.

Should be quite exhausting.

Strangely, it was not. The continuous complains during race weekends became funny as Valtteri exchanged amused looks with their team principal. The text messages as long as an entire encyclopaedia about how #blessed Lewis was for sharing this adventure with the fans went from annoying to endearing, even if it made his phone lag for a few minutes. Even the new full-time hobby the Brit got of never leaving his teammate alone in silence more than ten minutes got close to a nice background melody in his head, charming him more than bothering him. Instead of getting frustrated at seeing him on the top step of the podium, Valtteri could only remember how amazed and sincerely happy Lewis would look at him when it was the other way around, and Valtteri couldn’t help but be happy for him too.

And when Lewis decided to call their monthly outing to that Monegasque restaurant ‘dates’ instead of ‘friendly meetings’, Valtteri had no other choices but to let him, him and his long talks, his grouchy attitude and collection of trophies.

After all, who was he to say no to Lewis Hamilton?


	6. Suit - Lance/Esteban

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New suit for Esteban

“You look ridiculous.”

Esteban rolled his eyes at the remark, turning a little in front of the mirror of his bedroom to get a better look at himself.

“You look like a marshmallow all year, your opinion doesn’t count.”

“I don’t look like a marshmallow!” Lance chuckled, cheeks reddening a little as he laid down on the bed on his front, pushing himself up on his elbows, legs swinging in the air.

“Yes you do.”

“And you look like a rotten banana.”

“Cute, squishy marshmallow.”

“Ugly banana.”

Esteban threw his boyfriend a death glare, the ungrateful child.

“I’m telling you you look cute and adorable, and your only answer is that I’m ugly?”

And Lance, the spoiled brat, shrugged nonchalantly, smiling that angelic smile that had Esteban’s heart melt in an instant.

“I look awesome, big marshmallow, way more handsome than you.”

Lance hummed, finger tapping his lips lightly. Esteban drew his gaze away from the mirror, slowly walking toward the bed. He stopped on the side, looking down to the Canadian who pushed on his hands, straightening on his knees.

“It’s true that…” He put his hands on Esteban’s shoulders, pulling both of them closer to the edge of the bed.

“You are quite handsome.” His hands brushed along his chest slowly, earning a shiver from the tall Frenchman. While one hand continued its track toward Esteban’s hip, the other went back up to the zipper of the race suit.

“But you would look even better without this.”

As Lance slowly opened the suit, Esteban lifted his hands and cupped the man’s cheeks, bending forward to kiss him tenderly.

No debate on the race suits if they don’t wear any in the next minute.


	7. Season - Pierre & Daniil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pierre reflects on his last season

“I hate everything…” Pierre mumbled to himself as he faceplanted the small couch of his room in the motorhome. He turned his head slightly on the side to be able to breathe, then stayed there for what felt like an eternity.

This year had been long, so long! A rollercoaster of emotions, from the most genuine happiness to the darkest sides of his mind. A proper mess that would be associated to his name for the remaining of his life. Now, he was back from the last race, the end of the season, for just a few minutes of calm before the media storm got back at him again. He was tired. No, not strong enough of a word.

He felt drained.

His eyes were fixated on the empty wall opposite to him, only his open bag and his helmet that he threw there when he came in were in sight. The large ‘ _Red Bull_ ’ drawing on the side of the helmet taunted him once again and he adverted his gaze, looking everywhere but there.

At least, next year there would be no doubt anymore, no _Red Bull_ written on his clothes, remembering the lowest point of his season. Alex was confirmed as Max’s 2020 teammate, Pierre would stay at Toro Rosso – no AlphaTauri, he really had to remember that now – and the chances for that to move again were quite low. And Pierre would find stability again.

At that point, that was all Pierre needed. Stability.

This year had been hectic, he had lost count of the number of times a new event came crashing down on his already unsteady mental state. First, the growing pressure at Red Bull. What should have been the biggest opportunity of his life quickly turned into a disaster. “Measure up to Max”, “measure up to Daniel”, “be better”, “don’t crash”, “we won’t forgive any error” … And at the first mistake, his fate was sealed and his brain couldn’t keep up with the pressure put on his shoulders at every new race. His only comfort had oddly been the presence of his teammate. As the rest of the team tried to push Pierre to keep up with the other to the point that the simple mention of the Dutchman’s name would give him cold shivers, Max had always done his best to stay attentive to Pierre’s struggles and help when he could – Charles called that strategy, Daniel called that Max’s hidden soft side.

Then, the demotion. “Don’t worry, you will finish the season”, fucking liars. His wall at home still remembered that particular phone call when he was told he was going back to Toro Rosso, a large trace imprinted by the violent throw of a glass, now and then he would still find some small shards in the paint. And Max, the little fucker, knew already and didn’t say anything. Oh, Pierre had been furious toward him – as usual, Charles didn’t help for that until Max showed up at his place at the end of the summer break when the two friends were together to apologize and explain. Going back to Italia had been painful, the feeling of failure following him in every corner of the tech centre despite the welcoming smiles of his old team. He and Daniil hadn’t talked at that time, and the next second Pierre was in Spa…

Pierre was in Spa, and then he was at a funeral. Ha, the rest of the year was a happy little dream compared to this, to the grieve and loss of his best friend. He still remembered the evening of that day, he and Charles sprawled silently on the latter’s couch, tear tracks still shining on the Monegasque’s cheeks as they emptied an ice cream pot. Pierre’s brain had shut down earlier in the day, and he had been left with no emotion other than the need to crash in his bed and hide until he no longer wanted to jump out the window. Only Daniel and Max coming with enough ice cream for a regiment – so they wouldn’t lack any – broke through his last resolve and Pierre had ended up crying for three days straight, Charles’s arms surrounding him as he sobbed with him until they fell asleep. Bittersweet memory imprinted in his mind.

The weeks after that were quite blurred in his mind, he had tried his best to put everything aside and not disappoint more than necessary. To his own surprise, despite being completely out of it most of the time, he had managed to salvage his end of season. “Because you’re good at it”, Max would say, “Horner and Marko were just to stupid to get that out of you”. Maybe…

The Brazilian GP was also blurry, but for extremely different reasons! To be honest, he barely remembered his Sunday evening – blame that on Daniel and Kimi and their “victory shots”. Maybe the others were right, maybe he was not that bad at racing in the end. Anthoine would have been proud of him, for sure. And maybe he was proud of himself too, who knows. He didn’t know. However, one thing he knew for sure, is that he was still in the course for the unofficial title of Best of the Rest driver. A consolation prize he would have LOVED to grab. One last fight, against Carlos, to prove his worth, his talent, his capability. To make this year a little more bearable.

Pierre groaned, hiding his face in the cushion again. “Fuck you too, Lance.”

Of course, the last race couldn’t go as planned. Carlos was starting last, Alex was quite far in the points, Pierre’s chances to get that desired sixth place in the Championship were at their highest, and before he could do anything, anything! He was dead last in a damaged car.

Poor Lance had tried to apologize at the end of the race, it was just a simple mistake, one Pierre could do at any point too, but didn’t even have the time to open his mouth that Pierre, usually sweet and caring and posed Pierre, had screamed profanities at him for ruining his race. A miracle no cameras had been there at that point.

Jeez, he had to apologize to Lance now…

He had had to avoid the McLaren drivers after that, Carlos dancing around in the paddock was a painful sight to his teary eyes. The whole year came crashing down on him, and now he found the silence in his room deafening, close to give him a headache.

In conclusion, he was not good enough for the top teams, he couldn’t even blame Max because he was too understanding, so no one else than himself to blame, every time he felt like calling a friend for help he remembered one of his best friends would never pick up the phone now, and despite the highness provided by the Brazilian race, he was the best at nothing. Nothing.

The door opened and closed quietly, the person that came in walking toward the couch without a word. Pierre felt the sofa dip under the weight of the unknown intruder, and when Pierre turned around to yell at them to go away, he found himself looking in the brown eyes of his actual teammate Daniil. They watched each other silently for a few seconds, Daniil impassive as always, Pierre looking more and more confused. Finally, Daniil sighed heavily, lifting a hand to rub it on Pierre’s back.

“I know how it feels.”

That was all Daniil said, and it took Pierre a few more seconds to understand before his eyes went wide and he sat up properly to throw his arms around the Russian man. Another couple of seconds, and Daniil returned the hug, squeezing the younger man against him as Pierre started crying profusely. He was exhausted, upset, angry, he couldn’t keep all that inside, and Daniil really was the one who would understand him the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was quite painful to write :(  
> Don't hesitate to leave a kudo or a comment, or come and visit me on tumblr @suckmyballshoney (yeah I have no shame for that name) I try to stan Max but I get regularly interrupted by Lando and Romain being cute, it's funny


	8. Team principal - Mercedes

In the meeting room, Lewis put his phone down on the table, sighing.

“He’s not answering, I’m getting worried.” He frowned.

It was extremely unusual for their team principal to be late for a meeting, let alone not to warn when he got held up. The two Mercedes drivers, along with the few engineers accompanying them, exchanged worried looks, some of them lifting their hand to check the time. Almost one hour late, that was not normal, something must have happened to him.

Someone came in the room, holding his phone in hand and pushing the door close with their foot.

“I called at his home, no answer. Same when trying to reach his wife. What do we do?”

Valtteri was picking up at his nails a little, anxiously glancing between everyone there, but none of them actually knew what to say. Toto was the one that had planned the meeting, starting without him would lead nowhere. Lewis got up, taking his phone with him again to try and call their boss again, when the door opened again. Everyone turned their heads toward the newcomer, hoping to finally see their missing principal, but they all got surprised when they had to lower their eyes to see who came inside.

“Hello everyone!” Susie Wolff exclaimed cheerfully.

“Susie? What are you doing here?”

The petite woman happily walked to an empty chair, putting down her handbag and computer bag on the table and taking off her vest, smiling at the incredulous expressions directed at her.

“My lovely husband had a fever all night and was barely able to stand up on his feet this morning, so I told him to stay in bed.”

Susie took her computer out of the bag and plugged it to the cable next to her, smiling appreciatively when the screen appeared on the TV on the wall.

“So I’ll take his place today.” She sat down, crossing her arms on the edge of the table and grinning at everyone.

Valtteri let his head fall on the table in a groan as the others gulped. Lewis slowly took back his place around the table as everyone settled on their chair in silence. With Toto, you had to work at 200% if you wanted to keep your place. However, if there was one thing they had all learned by working at Mercedes for the past years, it was that, despite her small frame and charming features, his wife Susie was far from being an easy principal. Next to her, Toto seemed adorable.

“Okay boys, let’s start, we don’t have all day.”

 _God_ , Lewis thought, it was going to be a long day. A short look at his teammate, and the half scared, half amused frown on the Finn’s face was enough to know he was not the only one thinking this.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are very appreciated <3  
> Stay safe during those crazy times, take care of yourself!  
> And if you're bored and want to talk, come visit me on tumblr @suckmyballshoney


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